


Perfume Scented Garbage

by Devil_You_Know



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Matt Murdock, Cuddles, Deaf Character, Identity Reveal, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Clint Barton, Vaginal Sex, afterwards, because hes so obviously a bottom?, he has his hearing aids but he still has trouble w his volume, matt thinks its endearing, matts dumbass reveals his identity for some pussy honestly mad respect, this is just smut with a bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devil_You_Know/pseuds/Devil_You_Know
Summary: It wasn't the first time Matthew had met Clint Barton inside a dumpster, which was the saddest part of the whole thing. In fact, it wasn't even the second or third. Four times. They had met like this four times. At this point, Matt was considering getting matching shirts proclaiming them to be dumpster buddies.Alternative title: matt and clint run into each other in a dumpster, catch feelings, and fuck.





	Perfume Scented Garbage

It wasn't the first time Matthew had met Clint Barton inside a dumpster, which was the saddest part of the whole thing. In fact, it wasn't even the second or third. Four times. They had met like this four times. At this point, Matt was considering getting matching shirts proclaiming them to be dumpster buddies.

Or not, because somehow inexplicable he had convinced Hawkeye that he was actually a pretty cool guy, and he wasn't eager to fuck that up.

After a bit of fruitless wriggling, as well as a few rather colorful swears, the two had managed to untangle themselves and escaped from the fruit-and-flower scented hell that was the dumpster behind a perfume shop. They air was so cloyingly thick with the scent that Matt honestly thought that it would have been better to land in bags full of rotting food, as they had last time they ran into each other.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite Satanist! How's it going, Mister Lucifer?" Matt could hear the amusement in Clint's slightly-too-loud voice. He gave a slight smile back, but hid it quickly.

"I've told you a thousand times, Hawkeye. I'm not a Satanist." Matt growled, despite everything still trying to keep up his vaguely threatening appearance. It was a bit hard when he was clearly trying to suppress a grin and smelled like a thousand chemical-soaked flowers, though.

"Oh yeah, you're that other thing, right? Luciferian?" Clint said in his best attempt as a smooth, sultry tone. He leaned back against the dumpster. Unfortunately for him, the dumpster had wheels, and was very easily moved. Especially when the person leaning against it was very muscular. And the dumpster was a good six inches away from the wall.

Clint let out an undignified shriek as it scooted away from him and he was left flailing in an attempt to keep his balance. Matt couldn't stop the soft snort, nor the wheezing laughter that followed it. He quickly regained hold of himself, but the damage had already been done.

Something had changed in Clint's demeanor. His heart was beating faster, his face seemed warmer. Embarrassment? Or had Matt actually successfully gotten a real life Avenger to be attracted to him? (He was showing all of the obvious signs of it, after all.) Either way, those possibilities weren't enough to distract him from the fact that the coolest (in Matt's own personal opinion-- he may be a little biased though) Avenger had heard his very dorky laugh.

So now he was blushing too. Luckily, it was likely very difficult to see that through his mask. Unluckily, however, Clint seemed to recover quickly and he carefully approached him.

"That's a real cute laugh, Luci." Clint murmured softly. Quiet enough that nobody should reasonably be able to hear him. That was fine, though. Matt managed. Clint not being quite sure on his volume was kind've appealing, anyways, even when Matt had a headache from a metric boatload of cheap perfume.

Matt straightened his back a bit more, ensuring that he flexed the single inch of height he had on Clint. Clint seemed entirely unbothered by the subtle attempt at dominance as he invaded Matt's six foot radius of personal space and got close enough that Matt could probably touch him, if he wanted too. He wouldn't even have to stretch out his arm all the way. He tilted his head slightly, analyzing his pattern of breathing. At this distance, he could practically feel Clint's heartbeat through the air with how hard it was pounding. Matt realized that it was his turn to speak, as that was how conversations typically went.

"I've..." He swallowed, clearing his throat. Underneath all of the perfumes, Clint smelled distinctly himself. Like Axe body spray and slightly burnt coffee, as well as that personal musk that everybody had unique to themselves. It was distracting. "I've been told otherwise." Matt managed, deciding to drop his raspy voice. If Clint was surprised by this, he gave no indication. Another step forward. Matt was tempted to both close the difference and flee, unsure of how he felt with where this was going.

Matt formed attractions very easily. In fact, he couldn't remember a single time he'd had a friend that he hadn't at least had feelings for. And, as things always are with him, things invariably go wrong for him and he fucks up. It nearly ruined his friendship with Karen. It had put a huge strain on his friendship with Foggy in their early days of college, back before he realized that he had to open up to people if he wanted to get them to truly love him.

He felt like going there with Clint, who didn't even know who he was under his mask (both literal and metaphorical-- Clint didn't know how fucked up Matt was yet. He could never know-- not ever--), would be crossing some line; breaking some unwritten rule that Matt set for himself every single time that his plans to romance friends went awry.

"Whoever told you that is an idiot." Clint said, before taking a deep breath and making a movement with his head. Shaking it? It was hard for Matt to tell, sometimes. Body language was never his strong suit, for obvious reasons. Matt opened his mouth to speak, but Clint continued on, breaking Matt's focus completely.

"I'm about to do something crazy. If it's out of line, you have permission to kick my ass, okay? I'm sure you can do it." And suddenly Clint's lips were on his and Matt's mental process stuttered to a halt as all of his senses suddenly focused on the man kissing him. After a few awkward moments, Matt began to kiss back. Clint responded, slowly at first, but gaining enthusiasm. Matt could smell the nervous sweat and the faint arousal coming off of him, and he was gone.

Clint pushed him against the wall of the alley and Matt didn't try and stop him. He also couldn't stop the needy whimpers escaping him, but Clint's hands were on him and he couldn't think of anything other than how good it felt to be on the receiving end of physical affection and the burning arousal that was twisting through him. After what felt like ages of sucking on Clint's tongue, he pulled away, leaving Matt panting against the wall and feeling weak and shocked.

"I'm guessing you didn't hate that then, huh?" Clint sounded so damn smug, but Matt couldn't even deny how much he'd enjoyed it. He shook his head and swallowed before standing up straight once again, trying to regain composure. He took a few deep breaths. Did he trust Clint? He thought back to all of their previous meetings.

The first time, where they'd both been hesitant to trust one another and nearly ended up getting civilians hurt because they were to busy trying to keep a (metaphorical, in Matt's case) eye on the other and not their targets.

The second time had gone a little smoother, but not by much. Matt was still weary of having an Avenger in his neighborhood, and Clint still wasn't sure whether Matt was a good guy or a bad guy.

The third time, things were surprisingly good. They both worked together to achieve their goals, and spent the rest of the night parkouring together, stopping petty crime, and telling each other more personal information than either thought they'd share to any stranger. More personal information then he ever told anyone else this early on in knowing them ever. And Clint hadn't held any of it against him at all.

Matt nodded to himself. He could trust Clint.

"My place. Let's go back to my place. Please." He tried not to sound as desperate as he really was, but it sounded pathetic even to his own ears. If it weren't for the smell of arousal that wasn't his own in the air, and Clint's pounding heart, he'd probably be mortified. As it was, Clint stepped back with only a chuckle and Matt took a running jump and scrambled onto the roof. Unsurprisingly, Clint followed.

Matt quickly guided them to his apartment, practically kicking open the roof access into his place as he rushed Clint inside. Away from the heavily scented alleyway, Clint's scent was all the more intoxicating, and Matt felt like he could spend the rest of his life listening to his ragged, eager breathing. Clint seemed just as caught up in everything as he did, so Matt didn't feel to bad when he dragged Clint back to his room with a grip so tight it likely left marks.

It had been a while. He hadn't even jerked off in months, too busy wallowing in self pity.

Now that Clint was back in Matt's room and most definitely looking at him expectantly, Matt decided that there was no need in stalling any longer.

Perhaps, if the blood hadn't all rushed to his second head, he would've thought about what he was doing before he did it. Nevertheless, he yanked off his devil mask quickly, running his fingers through his hair because he knew from Foggy that mask-hair made him look ridiculous. He was so caught up in doing this that he hadn't noticed that Clint had approached him until he'd put his hands on his cheeks firmly.

Matt immediately froze up and dropped his hands to his sides, shivering. He felt exposed as he tried to aim his sightless eyes to where he supposed Clint was.

"Such a pretty boy..." A pause. "Are... Are you blind, Luci?" Clint sounded slightly incredulous, and Matt didn't blame him. Nevertheless, he felt a spark of that familiar rage mixed with anxiety settle in his stomach that always seemed to hit him when he felt people were going to tell him he couldn't do something because he was blind. However--

"That's so fucking cool!" Clint said, genuinely in awe. Matt let out a soft sigh of relief. Perhaps he should've seen the fact that Hawkeye, the deaf Avenger, wouldn't give him shit for being blind coming. It still felt nice, though. Especially when Clint began to kiss him again. He pulled away sooner than he had last time, much to Matt's dismay.

"You're so gorgeous, Luci--" The compliments felt good, but Matt decided that, no matter how sweet the nickname was, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Matthew. Matt. My name's Matt" He panted, his breaths becoming a lot quicker since Clint's wandering hands had become a bit more adventurous.

"Matt" Clint said, his smirk audible in the word. "Take off this suit for me. I wanna see all of you." Matt couldn't deny that it did things for him when his partner took charge, and Clint had definitely picked up on that. Matt only fumbled with it slightly before managing to unzip the hot, constricting suit and wriggling out of it.

Clint's heart beat harder, and his arousal scent became twice as strong. Matt's mouth watered, and he whimpered as Clint softly ran his calloused fingers along the scars on his chest.

"Please. Come on. I need you" He asked. No. Begged. He knew he sounded pathetic, but he couldn't help it. Being needy in bed seemed to come second nature to him. Clint took a step back, leaving him shivering and feeling more exposed than ever. He heard the rustle of clothes and knew that Clint was undressing himself. Clint's heart did a funny little thing, as though he were scared. Why would he be scared.

"Before I get my hands all over you, I gotta tell you. I'm trans. No bottom surgery, either. That's cool with you, right?" Clint asked. Matt blinked, processing it for a few moments, before nodding eagerly. He definitely didn't mind at all.

Clint seemed to be entirely relieved, because he pulled Matt over and shoved him down onto the bed so that he fell on his back. Matt wiggled into a more comfortable position and he felt Clint straddle him. Both of them were still in their underwear, and Clint was softly grinding against him, causing Matt to whimper and writhe. Clint leaned down and pinned him against the bed properly before attacking his mouth with a kiss much rougher than their previous two.

Matt struggled weakly, bucking his hips in a halfhearted attempt at dislodging the man, but all it succeeded in doing was applying a bit more friction to his already hard cock through his boxers, making him cry out. Clint seemed amused by Matt's ingenuine efforts to dethrone him, but eventually he had mercy. He shifted, sliding off his own boxers with ease. Matt could feel how wet he was when he settled back on top of him through his own underwear, and it was driving him insane.

"Please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease--" He whimpered, arching his back in a futile attempt at getting more friction. Clint laughed at him, forcing him back down. Easily. Despite his obvious arousal, he had a much more level head than Matt could ever hope to have. It was humiliating. Matt loved it.

"Mmm... Such a needy boy..." Clint rasped too loudly into his ears. He bucked his hips again, whining. Finally, finally, Clint reached down and slid off Matt's underwear, freeing his cock from where it was trapped underneath. Clint ran his finger up its length, letting out an impressed sound. Matt didn't even have time to feel flattered before Clint had lifted himself up and sunk down onto him, impaling himself gently. Matt cried out, and Clint let out a shuddering gasp that would remain in Matt's memories for years.

Matt started to shift, but Clint gently slapped him on the face, just light enough to sting.

"Was that alright?" Clint asked, becoming serious for a moment. Matt whined and nodded enthusiastically to try and show just how on board he was with Clint being a little rougher with him. At his response, Clint relaxed back into his role.

Clint lifted himself up once again before impaling himself, and Matt writhed underneath him, reaching his hands down to steady Clint. Clint, however, slapped his hands away and instructed him not to touch unless given permission to. Matt liked that a lot.

Soon enough, Clint had built up a steady rhythm that must've been murder on his thighs but felt so, so good. All too soon, Matt felt the tension inside of him rise, and he whimpered out a warning. Clint didn't slow down. If anything, he sped up.

"I'm sterile, don't worry about it. Go ahead, Matthew." He said between panting breaths. At the given permission, Matt released with a loud cry, never being one to be even moderately quiet in bed. Clint did as well, his already tight walls growing even tighter and squeezing Matt dry. After riding him through his orgasm, Clint slid off of him and sat at the edge of the bed. After a few moments, Matt made an inquisitive noise, and Clint explained impatiently.

"Get on your knees and clean me up. With your mouth. Make me cum again, pretty boy."

Matt felt his mouth water as he obediently slid off the bed and onto his knees where he belonged. With his face enclosed in Clint's muscular thighs, and the scent of his arousal so strong that it could choke him, the scene was almost unfairly sexy. He leaned in close and gave a testing lick, causing Clint to shudder above him. The taste was amazing, and he could lick at him all day. However, apparently getting impatient, Clint gripped his hair tightly and buried Matt's face in between his legs.

With how in control Clint had seemed earlier, it was extremely gratifying for Matt to feel Clint writhing and hear him crying out loudly-- too loudly-- and complimenting him. Matt wasn't exactly an expert on oral, but he was no novice either, and he felt his dick twitch in interest despite how thoroughly it had been milked previously. It was impossible to not be aroused with the mixture of Clint's and his own fluids running down his chin.

Clint's grip on his hair grew painful, and his thighs tightened around his head, as though holding him in place. After a few moments of being crushed, Clint came with what sounded like a sob, soaking Matt even more.

Matt was released and he sat up, closing his eyes and grinning goofily up at Clint. He was rewarded by soft, gentle hands running through his hair.

"Good boy. You did so well for me." Matt soaked up the praise, resting his head on Clint's knee comfortably. He was so, so tired. He hadn't had sex that good in a very long time. After a brief but comfortable silence, Clint finally spoke up.

"So, do you want me to leave, or..?"

"Stay, please. You can sleep in my bed-- I'll take the couch-" Clint cut him off with a laugh. "You really think I'm gonna let you sleep on the couch while I steal your bed after we have mind blowing sex? I think not. Let's clean up a bit then cuddle."

And if Matt had one of the best nights of sleep he's had his entire life curled up in the arms of an Avenger... Well, that wasn't anyone's business, was it?

**Author's Note:**

> i might write a sequel with them being cute and happy together, or maybe one where the avengers find out? not sure yet. id love to hear yalls response!


End file.
